


Slay Belles

by Arej



Series: Ineffable Advent 2019 [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (even if he pretends to be annoyed by it), Idiots in Love, M/M, Movie Night, Other, crowley is a smartass and aziraphale knows this, it's what makes their friendship so much fun, not sure if i should tag this developing relationship or not, they're not really male but it's m/m since i used male pronouns throughout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arej/pseuds/Arej
Summary: A belated day 6 for the advent calendar of prompts.Crowley's choice of Christmas movies may notquitebe to Aziraphale's expectations.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Advent 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561027
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119





	Slay Belles

Crowley slinks into the bookshop, takeaway bag in one hand, DVD selections in the other, setting the bells atop the bookshop door to tinkling.

They’re tiny silver things, now, a change from the usual single brass bell. It’s a nod to the season, one of the few decorations Aziraphale has that is visible to the general public, and the whole collection of chiming silver is nestled in a bundle of - he squints - holly.

He’s somehow both relieved and disappointed that it isn’t mistletoe, instead.

Aziraphale unwittingly rescues him from having to address this newfound dilemma by calling from somewhere in the stacks. “Crowley, is that you?”

He grins. “Excuse me,” he calls, affecting the most nasal American accent he can manage, “I saw this book in your window and I was wondering how much?”

“Oh, no, terribly sorry, but we’re -” the angel rounds the corner, and his conciliatory tone and smile drop away when he sees Crowley, and only Crowley, standing there, “- closed. Very funny.”

“Fooled you.”

“Yes, well, you’ve gotten rather good at voices,” Aziraphale huffs, and the compliment, delivered with fond exasperation, warms something in Crowley’s soul. “I only wish you’d stop practicing on _me_, you fiend.”

Crowley snaps the shade down over the front window - whose sign is flipped to ‘closed’, and has been for hours - and makes his way to the back, where he deposits the takeaway bag and tonight’s entertainment on the table. He busies himself with laying out the spread, lifting tiny box after tiny box from the bag, and watching Aziraphale peruse the abandoned DVDs from the corner of his eye.

Movie night is new, for them - well. Movie night _in_, with takeaway and popcorn and Crowley’s obnoxiously large flat screen that makes it feel like a private theater just for them, tucked away in the back room, with no clandestine actions needed and no Arrangement to discuss… _that’s_ new. 

The long-suffering sigh as Aziraphale regards the DVDs, however, is as old as time.

“I’m not certain _Santa Claus Conquers the Martians_ is _quite_ what I had in mind when you mentioned holiday films,” he muses. “Or _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. Or -”

He stops, open-mouthed, stares for a moment, then turns a look on Crowley. “_Slay Belles_? Really, my dear?”

“Wordplay is the height of humor,” Crowley volleys back. He waits a beat, then: “Or so an angel told me.”

“That was about Egyptian literary devices, not -” but the corners of his mouth are twitching, even as he affects another put-upon sigh. “Not horrific puns, you wicked serpent.”

Crowley grins unrepentantly back. “Tell that to old Will, did you? Wordplay’s all well and good, but mind the horrific puns?”

Aziraphale attempts a scowl and fails miserably, his eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. “Oh, hush.”

For a wild moment, “make me” dances on Crowley’s tongue, knocks at his teeth; he wants to know what would happen if he dared Aziraphale like this, amidst banter and laughter and the wild new freedom of this new, remade world. If the angel would pick up the unspoken cue, the hope that lurks in his bones. If he would answer the challenge, silence the demon with lips instead of words. 

They’ve been drawing closer and closer now that the pressure is off, now that they’re really, truly on their own side - no Heaven nor Hell to interfere, to judge, to restrain. Crowley has the growing suspicion that the angel is ready and willing to meet him, now, on equal ground; pick up his challenges and his promises too, call his bluffs. 

Only, irony of ironies, it may be too fast.

For _Crowley_.

He chuckles instead, waves a hand at the feast he’s spread over the table, and falls back against the sofa. Drapes himself just so, one hand held out for the DVDs Aziraphale is still holding, a knowing smile fluttering at the edges of those angelic lips.

“There’s some genuine choices in there, I promise, angel. Even if the titles are a little…much.”

Aziraphale quirks a brow at him, and Crowley’s grin softens into a smile.

“Honest, angel.” A pause, and then, “Do you trust me?”

There is a moment - not a pause, but a moment, laden with promise and weighted with history, full of centuries of unspoken truths. Then Aziraphale smiles fully, sets the cases down on the table. Settles there, on the sofa, next to Crowley.

“Of course I do, dear.”

Crowley snaps and the flat screen flickers, bookshop lights settling to a dim glow. He takes the shumai Aziraphale offers him and swallows past the fluttery feeling in his throat when the angel settles back against the sofa, thigh bare inches from Crowley’s own, shoulders nearly brushing. Keeps his gaze squarely on the screen and relaxes into the closeness while the opening credits roll.

They watch _The Muppet Christmas Carol_, and _The Nightmare Before Christmas_, and then, when Aziraphale inquires after “those holiday romances you mentioned” Crowley puts on _The Spirit of Christmas_, and after they embark on a cheesy Hallmark-style Christmas movie binge.

_Santa Claus Conquers the Martians_ sits neglected by mutual agreement on the table. They do not watch _Slay Belles_.

Even though Aziraphale offers.


End file.
